


No Rules, No Inhibitions

by HouseofTheBear



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Erotica, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Passionate Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseofTheBear/pseuds/HouseofTheBear
Summary: An invitation from the Martells to an intimate masquerade party leads to an extended weekend of unbounded pleasures and renewed dedication for Daenerys and Jorah.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Kudos: 38
Collections: Jorah and Daenerys' Garden of Erotic Delights





	1. The Bear and The Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> I'm BAACCKK!! :D Wow, it's been a while!
> 
> This multi-chapter tale has been in the works for some time, a little writing here and there. It was only because a certain someone *cough* clarasimone *cough* that this is finally being published. It will be a chapter a week, most likely Saturday. Please note, this tale is just like the title suggests, no rules or inhibitions for Daenerys and Jorah, so expect things to be racier than usual ;)
> 
> One last thing, as always, I want to thank my partner in erotica, clarasimone. Gently nudging me to keep writing, you always know just what to say when I feel like throwing in the towel. Merci!
> 
> Moodboard lovingly created by clarasimone, it's perfect! Thank you!

“How do you know Oberyn and Ellaria Martell?”

Jorah looked up from his newspaper, setting down his coffee cup. “I’ve knew him before he was married. Oberyn used to be in the financial world before he left to start his own company. His wife I've only met a few times actually.”

“I can't believe you know them!” She sat down on the sofa beside him, looking astonished. “His products are fantastic and women clamor for her fashion designs.”

“What does he make?”

“You don’t know?” She arched an eyebrow at him when he shook his head. “Seriously?! I thought you guys were friends.”

“We are, but I haven't actually seen or spoken to him in quite some time. He became a bit of a recluse.”

“Well, I have one of his _products_ in my nightstand drawer.”

Jorah's eyes went comically wide a moment before he broke into laughter. He stopped with a sigh, “Oh, why am I not surprised?” Daenerys was staring at him nonplussed. “Oberyn was always one to indulge in the pleasures of life...and love.” Jorah only then noticed the large matte black envelope in her hands, the lettering embossed in gold leaf. “What's that?”

“An invitation to an exclusive party at his villa in Spain called The Sunspear.”

“When is it?”

She read over the details. “Two Saturdays from now.”

Jorah smiled. “That's perfect timing. We're going to be in Seville the preceding Wednesday.”

“Oh, that's right, the business trip.”

“What else does it say?”

She started reading out loud, “‘A masquerade party where every fantasy can become a reality and no desire is too risqué. No rules. No inhibitions. Just pleasure.’”

That certainly sounded like Oberyn. But a masquerade? Jorah didn't know how he felt about wearing something covering part of his face all night, but he could already tell Daenerys was excited by the prospect. _Ah, why not_ , he reasoned, _if it makes her happy, I'll deal with it. It's only a few hours._

“I know just the style of mask for you, my bear.”

A smile slowly curled his lips, catching her drift. “And I know just the one for you too, my little dragon.”

***

Saturday arrived faster than Jorah had expected, and from his seat alone in the back of the limousine, regrettably caused by a business call that couldn’t wait, he surveyed the venue for this evening's fete. His friend called it 'home', but it was really more like a miniature palace. Terraced white-washed stone walls, arched colonnades dripping with bougainvillea, honeysuckle, and night-blooming jasmine, not to mention, numerous gurgling fountains. Exiting the car and adjusting his mask, he noted from his high vantage point the little bungalows spaced generously apart through the trees and shrubbery below, certainly enough distance between them so a couple's nightly _activities_ would not be heard. Theirs bordered the massive infinity pool, the last one, and he realized, the furthest away from any building. He had to smile a little at that, Oberyn certainly understood what it meant to be head-over-heels in love with your wife.

Following the curved slate stone steps to the open front door, Jorah only managed to get a peek inside before an enthusiastic voice greeted him, “Mi amigo!”

Jorah turned, “Oberyn.”

The leopard-masked man pulled him into a hug, “It has been too long.”

“Indeed it has,” he answered, embracing him back.

His friend was a very touchy type, something Jorah had learned very early on, as it challenged his somewhat reserved manner.

“Daenerys is already inside.” He clapped Jorah on the shoulder and winked, “You are a _very_ lucky man.”

Jorah smiled. “I am.” _And I thank the gods every day._

Stepping into the dimly lit foyer, Jorah marveled at the stained-glass atrium, gleaming black marble flooring, and lavish tapestries. Blown glass sculptures sat on carved mahogany tables and vases full of exotic flowers bordered golden candelabras, their flickering golden light playing games with the figures in the paintings. The furnishings were opulent, but not ostentatious. Padded velvet settees and brocade fainting couches lined the walls leading into a massive room with one of the highest ceilings he had ever seen. Gauzy opaque fabric hung in wide ribbons from the exposed beams, and that, paired with the soft lighting, gave the dancing couples just the right amount of privacy. Waiters clad in all black and carrying silver trays moved about, silently offering small bites to the guests. It was far less crowded than Jorah had anticipated, he counted maybe eight people. He preferred that for this sort of gathering, it enhanced the mood considerably.

Tracking the room, he spotted Daenerys at last, the air catching in his throat. Alone, she stood admiring a massive stone sculpture of a ballet dancer on pointe. A goddess amongst mere mortals, Daenerys’ antique gilded mask looped in an infinity symbol, the ruby-eyed dragon catching its own tail. His eyes followed the gentle, sweeping lines of her form, perfectly highlighted by her clingy dress. He could tell the sleeveless floor-length gown was silk, the faintly shimmering golden fabric cut a deep V down her back, baring her entire spine. His mind instantly filled with the most lustful thoughts, a familiar stirring in his trousers only intensifying his need to touch her.

He crossed the room, completely entranced by her, ignoring everyone and everything else around him. A throbbing, sultry R&B track filled the air, matching the cadence of his steps. Her posture changed the closer he got, sensing his approach. He didn’t give her a chance to turn, his arms enfolding her from behind. “Hello, my little dragon.”

His purr sent a tremor through her, melting her into his embrace. She luxuriated for a moment, then turned, a slow smile curling her lips, “I see a gorgeous, golden bear has come to devour me.” Her finger traced the nose of his mask, then the fullness of his lips, over his bearded chin, and down the edge of his black tie, her eyes following. They continued on, noting the bulge below his black leather belt. “A rather _large_ golden bear,” she finished with a smirk.

His chuckle rumbled through his chest and into hers. “Never devour, love,” he pulled her closer, his hand drifting down her back to the swell of her bottom to draw her tight to his burgeoning member, “only ravish until you beg me to stop.”

Heat filled her torso and pooled in her belly; Jorah was definitely getting into the spirit of the evening. _No rules, no inhibitions, just pleasure._

“As always, you are stunning, love.” His finger followed one curve of her mask, “My tempting golden goddess.”

The skin on either side of her nose went softly pink, her dimples dotting her cheeks. “Flatterer.”

“It isn’t flattery if it’s true.”

A man carrying a tray of champagne flutes was getting closer, “A drink?”

He nodded and took two per her request, handing her one and sipping from his own. Her hand flew to her nose after she took her own hearty drink, “Those bubbles always do that!”

A recognizable brightness lit her eyes, Daenerys was tipsy. Jorah smirked, “Already had a glass, Sweetheart?”

“I was thirsty.” Her smile fell, “I just realized I haven't eaten yet.”

“Daenerys,” he admonished gently, “let's get you some food.”

Jorah stopped every waiter on their way to the open French doors, gathering a plate loaded with morsels. The terrace was expansive, extending out to either side and around both corners. Large stone pots overflowing with massive ferns were set at regular intervals, tiny fairy lights twinkling amongst the green. Low fire braziers tried to chase away the crisp evening air, but Daenerys still hugged herself. Jorah shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it around her bare shoulders, to which she offered him a smile.

Jorah was beyond gorgeous that evening. _Sexy as fuck was more like it_ , she mentally corrected herself. Clad in all black, he cut an impressive figure. His dress shirt might as well have been made just for him, the buttons straining slightly on his broad chest every time he drew a breath. His slacks, well, she had to bite her lip at how they clung to his taut arse, making her want to grab two handfuls of the muscled swells. The swirling gilded lines of his mask wove through what seemed like nearly every shade of brown, the pale yellow around the eye openings making the blue behind them pop. He truly was every inch his nickname that evening.

“Mmm, delicious,” she mumbled around a mouthful of toasted brie on a baguette crostino, topped with a dollop of fig jam. Jorah sampled it himself and hummed in agreement. She reached for the next morsel, a seared scallop wrapped in applewood smoked bacon, and gobbled it down. Daenerys followed it up with a grilled half of a strawberry drizzled with something dark and equal parts sweet and sour.

“Your friend is very handsy,” she remarked, swiping a bit of balsamic glaze from the corner of her mouth.

“What did he do?” Jorah stood to his full height, glancing back toward the house, “Did he make you uncomfortable?”

She loved his protectiveness. “Oh, no, Jorah, I think he's just a tactile person.”

“Well, perhaps he should be _tactile_ with his own wife.”

She brushed her fingers down his arm to his hand where she twined them with his. “Hmm, someone's a possessive bear tonight.”

Jorah gave her little growl and leaned closer, “Where did he touch you?”

“My upper arm.”

He pulled his jacket to the side and pressed his lips to her skin there, making her jaw fall slack. “Where else?”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “The middle of my back.”

He stepped behind her and braced his palms on the stone balustrade, effectively caging her. She reveled in the heat that poured from his tall, broad frame. Being surrounded by him like this never made her feel trapped or overwhelmed, only protected. Loved.

And right now... _desired_.

He took the garment off her and slung it over the railing, his hand coming up to splay just below her breasts, his thumb notched between them. Bending slightly, he brushed his lips to the center of her spine, his gruff setting off a cascade of tiny bumps across her skin. He hummed his approval, “Did he touch you elsewhere?”

His gravelly words dampened her ear, her chest arching. “No,” she breathed, turning her head, “nowhere else.” She sighed into his mouth, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “But I want you to touch me.”

He didn’t waste any time, his hand molding to her breast, making her mewl as its largeness engulfed the soft flesh, his thumb lightly teasing her rapidly hardening nipple through her dress. He stole a kiss, one that was sure to mess up her lipstick, but he didn't care. The mere idea of Oberyn with his hands _anywhere_ on his wife made him want to stake his claim. Not that Daenerys was his property or any other antiquated idea like that, he simply didn't want her to feel sullied.

It appeared Daenerys didn’t want that either, she was like a live flame in his arms, twisting and arching, setting his nerves alight with her passion. He broke the kiss, much to Daenerys' disappointment, but that was short-lived.

“Yes...,” she begged as his hand dipped under her dress to fondle her breast unimpeded. He bit and licked at the back of her neck, her hand reaching back and snaking between their bodies to palm his hardness. He thrust against her with a carnal grunt, one she felt and heard all the way to her sex.

The sound of footfalls approaching had him withdrawing his hand, but not disengaging completely, otherwise, he'd embarrass himself, what with the massive hard-on he was sporting in his trousers. To any passerby, they appeared to be gazing out over the expansive back garden, enjoying the view. A man stopped beside them; a black velvet-lined basket filled with deckled edge scrolls in his hand.

“Choose one,” he offered and Daenerys reached inside, plucking the one from the top. He bowed and left them alone once more.

She undid the black ribbon and unrolled the parchment, reading, "Tonight, a deeply held fantasy will be fulfilled."

“And what would that be, love,” he whispered, nuzzling the tender place behind her ear, making her shiver.

She turned in his arms, “It doesn't specify that it has to be mine.” Crossing her wrists behind his neck, she put the ball in his court, “What about yours?”

“ _You_ are my fantasy come true.”

“Jorah,” she blushed, “that's not what they mean.”

The line from the invitation had him exhaling slowly, _Here goes nothing_. “I want to leave my mark on you. Somewhere only I can see, so that when I look at you, only I'll know it's there.”

Daenerys bit her lip seductively, “You _are_ my possessive bear tonight. I love it. As for mine, I want what the invite promised: 'no rules, no inhibitions.’”

“Just pleasure,” they finished together. “And that is what you shall have, Sweetheart,” he added, his eyes locking with hers, his voice husky with desire.

“Dance with me for a while first,” a naughty gleam twinkling in her eyes.

He grabbed his jacket and took her hand, walking back into the makeshift ballroom. A waiter took the garment from him before they found a section of the dance floor cut off almost entirely from the rest, the wide swaths of opaque fabric shielding them from wandering eyes. Jorah spun Daenerys out, then drew her back into his orbit. Skimming his palm down the outside of her thigh, he found the slit in her dress, something he hadn't noted before. He groaned his approval and reached inside, holding her just below the curve of her bottom as he fitted their lower halves together, his thigh slipping between hers to press against her center. They were like matching puzzle pieces, their bodies made for one another. Daenerys gripped his shoulders, needing his strength as he started to move, slow and sensual, undulating his hips, a rhythm she easily matched. His hardness, insistent and aching, fed on the soft mewls and broken whimpers falling from her lips.

“We've never danced like this.”

“I wish we had.” Jorah's eyes, like the brightest, hottest blue flame, set her being on fire.

_So this is the man I love unrestrained._ It had taken some coaxing, but she had managed to get Jorah to give in now and again in the bedroom. Tonight, he was completely letting go, baring the magnetic eroticism she always knew was there and had only glimpsed before.

So she let go too.

Tipping her head back, she bared her throat in silent invitation, one he gladly accepted. He nipped at the corded tendons and laved her racing pulse, pinking her skin with his scruff. She writhed in his arms, riding his thigh in search of some relief from the tension coiled in her abdomen. With one hand between her shoulder blades and the other holding a cheek of her bottom prisoner, he took control of their dirty dance, giving her what she needed.

A sudden gasp escaped her lips, her body beginning to quiver, her brow tensing, “Gods...Jorah... _please_."

“Come for me, love. Come on my thigh. Let everyone hear you.”

Ecstasy bloomed in her eyes just before they fluttered shut, a throaty moan rising to meld with the music. He supported her easily, letting her body ride the waves of pleasure buffeting her. He hummed in satisfaction, knowing it was the pulses of her sex that made her hips jerk against his leg. She was loose in his embrace, warm and tingly, but her desire was nowhere near sated. Blinking up at him, she smiled lazily, the apples of her cheeks flushed beautifully pink.

“That's one, Sweetheart,” he told her, gently kissing her, “there will be many more before the night is through.”

And with those words, her yearning for him returned with a vengeance. Using his shoulders, she pulled herself up and turned, her back meeting his chest.

Now it was her turn to entice him.

Not that he needed it. Jorah was more than ready. Continuing what she had started earlier, she reached between them and unzipped his trousers, snaking her hand inside to find him sans boxer briefs. She smiled to herself, _what a resourceful bear._ Her fingers teased the velvety shaft and spread the silky beads of moisture over the wide head.

“Fuck, love,” he growled, his own hand snaking through the slit in her dress, his knee pressing against the inside of her own in order to make her leg move. They were barely dancing anymore as she leaned back, safe that he would keep her upright even in the midst of their lusty fondling.

He inhaled sharply when his fingertips encountered the slick on her inner thigh. It shifted to a groan when they moved a bit higher, “No panties.” Without warning, he slipped two fingers into her heat, making her back arch and her grip on his shaft tighten. “Do you want me to make you come again?”

“Yes,” she mewled, “but not here.”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

He had his fingers out from between her legs, had zipped up his fly, and had grabbed her hand before she knew it. Her copious wetness made holding hands interesting, but she held firm. They practically raced from the room, but no one noticed, too involved in their own seductions to care.

Their bungalow lay at the end of a long, flagstone pathway, lit romantically by lanterns hanging from the overarching branches. She felt like a giddy, lovestruck, not to mention, horny teenager, and Jorah seemed to feel the same. He kept glancing back at her, lust bright in his eyes and a wicked grin on his face.

There was no door to their bungalow, only tall plantation shutters, and Jorah whipped them open, then closed them after. Daenerys' gasp drew his gaze up, the golden glow from numerous candles sent flickering shadows across the walls. The bed, covered in dove grey linens, took up nearly the entire center of the room, certainly larger than any they'd ever seen. Impatient to make love to her, Jorah's fingers found the pins holding up Daenerys’ hair, pulling them free to send it tumbling down. Her dress followed suit, pooling at her feet. She started to bend to remove her heels, but the husky edge in his voice stopped her, “Leave them on.”

It took only one stride for him to stand before her, then suddenly she was in his arms as he moved to the bed, laying her down. She spread her legs, showing him what his attentions had done and where she needed him now. But Jorah needed no direction, his eyes moving over her as sure as his touch. “I am going to claim every inch of your body.”

A flash of heat so searing tore through her, making her walls clench at the hungry emptiness she wanted him to fill. Never before had Jorah been so possessive, so… _feral_. It thrilled her, this new, exciting facet of her husband. He dropped to his knees, planting open-mouthed kisses on a path up her right thigh until he reached her curls. There, just beside them, he sucked at her skin, the pleasure-pain of tiny capillaries giving way made her breath catch. He let go with a soft _pop_ , admiring his creation with a look and sound of satisfied pride. His fantasy now fulfilled, his palms found their home on either side of her sex, his thumbs opening her to him. He stared at the glistening, rosy treasure before him, his nostrils flaring at the involuntary pulse his scrutiny caused. He met her eyes over the beautiful expanse of her body, “And I'm going to start here.”

The first kiss, so deep, but agonizingly slow, sent her trembling thighs up against the sides of his head and her hands flying into his curls.

He pulled back, making her whine. “No, love…open yourself to me.”

He hummed appreciatively when her legs fell open once more, her hands dipping down to part her lips and draw back the little hood sheltering her pearl. “I want your fingers inside me too.”

“You'll have them,” he promised, lowering his head to seal his mouth around her now exposed little nub. It was a clear message: she wanted her peak _now_. No more waiting.

She keened and arched as he set a swift pace with his tongue, lashing it with tight, hard flicks. A curse floated from her lips like a breeze, his name following after on a moan that made his manhood twitch in his trousers. His mask must have made him look every bit like his animal pet name, what with his golden head nestled at her center, gorging himself on honey only he knew how to coax from her.

The pad of his thumb teased the rim of her entrance, the slick increasing as the seconds passed. “Gimme--your--thick--fingers,” she huffed between breaths.

Jorah was only too happy to obey. Two slipped in easily, then he added a third, her sex clutching at them in greeting. He pumped them in time with his tongue, her body surging into an arc, a broken string of ‘ _don’t stop, right there_ ’ filling his ears.

When her sex swelled, he doubled his pace, desperate for the glorious sight and sound of her climax. And she didn’t disappoint. Her body quivered, her sweet moan shaky and drawn-out, just like the fluttering caressing his slowing fingers. His tongue didn't though, he knew he could make her come again.

“Jorah,” she exclaimed, wide-eyed, her body trying to pull away. “I ca-- _oh Gods_.”

Her head fell back when the tips of his fingers pushed up, her hands taking up residence in his curls as she surrendered to the onslaught of his tongue. She could feel the wave of bliss recede briefly, only to crash over her once more, this time sharp, short, and so intense she could barely catch her breath or make a sound.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found him looking at her, an untamed glint in his eyes.

She would willingly be his prey tonight.

Turning onto her stomach, she rose to her hands and knees, arching like a lithe feline. Jorah wasted no time freeing himself from the fly of his trousers, stroking once with a tight fist. The sight made her ache, she needed that thick length buried inside her, filling her as only Jorah could.

“Daenerys,” he groaned, his hands caressing the supple roundness of her bottom, “you know what this position does to me.”

She glanced back at him, her eyebrow arched, “I know... _my bear_.” She pushed back against him, her wetness slicking the head of his cock. “Let’s mate like they do.”

With a growl, he lined himself up with her entrance and thrust home, grunting at the feel of her tight, slick heat surrounding him. He took her without reservation, without restraint, pounding into her, her bottom jiggling with each powerful plunge. And she encouraged him, begging for it ‘ _harder...faster_ ’. He held her hips firmly, drawing her to him as much as she pushed back. Each time their bodies met, he couldn’t hold back a grunt, which only seemed to arouse Daenerys more. Their actions were the very definition of one of her favorite words: _rutting_. But even as he was giving Daenerys his wild bear side, he still wanted her to fall apart one more time before he let go, needing to feel her pleasure rippling around his cock.

“Touch yourself,” he gritted out.

He kept his rhythm, but tilted her hips in the way he knew she needed it as she caressed herself. Her head fell back on her shoulders with a soft cry, her walls beginning to flutter.

Looking down, he watched his girth part her tender flesh and saw how her orgasm coated his shaft in a rush of shiny nectar that created a glittering stain on the wool of his trousers.

“Fuck,” he growled, feeling his release gathering at the base of his cock. It only took three more deep, hard plunges before he was pulsing in long spurts into her still throbbing depths, his shallow thrusts matching the jerking of his cock. Large pearlescent beads of their combined release escaped from the sides of her entrance, slipping down his shaft to drip onto the backs of her thighs and his trousers.

His orgasm left him shaking and breathless, falling forward to catch himself at the last moment on weak arms so he wouldn't crush her. He showered her neck and upper back in lingering kisses, whispered sweet endearments, and listening to her sigh happily.

He let his length soften and slip from her, only then did he leave her side, disappearing into the ensuite to fetch a washcloth. He returned with two, one warm and wet to gently clean her, the other to dry. He stripped out of his clothes and mask, took off Daenerys’ as well, before drawing her under the covers with him, enfolding her in a warm, tender embrace. The languid brush of his fingers along her shoulder and down her arm soothed her.

“You gave me just what I wanted,” she whispered, nuzzling her face into the space between his pectorals, breathing in his scent mixed with a hint of dried salt. When he didn't answer, she added, “I know what you're thinking, my bear.” She lifted her head to meet his eyes, “But don't.”

It took a moment for his brow to soften, a smile curling his lips, “It does feel good to let go sometimes.”

_“Very_ good,” she teased, making him chuckle. “And I want more,” she added against his lips, her hand disappearing under the sheet to find his manhood half-hard. “It would appear you do too.”

He groaned as she began stroking him, using the clear beads oozing from the slit to aid her fondling. Their kiss was heady, her tongue teasing with his in a preview of what she had planned for his cock. Jorah grumbled when she unsealed their lips, but when she tossed back the sheet and positioned herself between his spread legs, he really couldn't complain any further. Cupping his sac, she gently rolled it, knowing it was sensitive. He rewarded her with a subtle upward jerk of his hips.

“He's beautiful,” she said, taking him in a firm grasp, her thumb circling the broad head, spreading the slick salty liquid before she gathered it hungrily with her tongue. “I love the way you taste.”

She noticed how torn he was, his eyes darting from hers to her mouth poised so close to the head of his cock. Kissing the tip, she smirked, “I want you to watch me.”

Jorah swallowed roughly, reaching to the side to grab an extra pillow to prop against the metal headboard. Once his back was resting on it, she resumed her previous activity. Following the prominent vein along Jorah’s abdomen with her tongue, she moved to the base of his proud length, licking it all the way up to the crown, where she traced the spongy ridge, drawing gasps from Jorah. One morphed into her name as the warm wetness of her mouth slowly engulfed the head. She took him in until he brushed the back of her throat, the muscles in his thighs twitching with restraint. His fists clenched at his sides as she started to bob her head, the tip of her tongue dancing along the sensitive underside. What didn't fit in her mouth, she stroked in a corkscrew motion, her other hand working his sac.

“Oh fuck--Daenerys...”

She loved when he lost all sense of propriety and let those naughty words fall from those gorgeous lips of his. It meant that he was in the moment, totally surrendered to the sensations she elicited from him. Occasionally, her eyes would lift and find him watching, just like she had asked. It excited her, knowing he was seeing what her mouth was doing to him. The memory of the first time she'd asked him that flashed in her mind: her on her knees under his desk at the office, treating him to an 'afternoon delight', as she had phrased it in a text only an hour before. Jorah, ever the giving partner, had reciprocated later: her sprawled on his desktop, thong panties dangling from one ankle, his face buried between her legs. Thankfully, everyone had gone home or else they would have been treated to a very loud _'Gods...Jorah!'_.

Now, with her thoughts and actions combining, her body reacted as it always did. Her arousal seeped from her entrance and trickled down her inner thigh, her legs drawing together in an attempt to ease the renewed ache throbbing in her pearl.

Jorah gently gathered her hair over one shoulder, a gesture that simultaneously made her heart swell and her sex throb. It was equal parts gentlemanly and voyeuristic, a way of keeping it out of her way, but also unblocking his view of her cheeks hollowing with each suck. His fingers settled in her tresses, not pushing or pulling or trying to control her pace. That was never Jorah's way, he let her have all the power in this act.

It was clearly becoming apparent, however, that her current tempo was merely torturing him. His rate of breathing had increased, his brow tense, his Adam's apple bobbing sharply. “Please...love...”

How could she continue to let him suffer? A little prolonging was fine, but she wasn't one to draw things out for too long. Her hand swirled effortlessly up and down his shaft as she stroked him faster, her lips tightening, her tongue focusing on that sensitized bundle of nerves just below the head. His hips lifted each time she retreated, desperate to be back inside the heaven created by her mouth. Their eyes met, hers letting him know she wanted him to unleash a bit of the bear again. _Make love to my mouth,_ her expression seemed to say.

They were erotically in sync, their bodies humming with primal instinct, giving and taking. Daenerys was hungry for his flavor on her tongue, Jorah so close to the bliss she freely offered. His heels dug into the coverlet, his buttocks tensing with each shallow upward thrust, even in his haze, he was still mindful of her comfort. Warmth spread through his groin, a guttural moan rising from his chest. Hard as steel beneath hot velvety flesh, his sac a tight globe between his trembling thighs.

His fingers tightened slightly in her hair, his voice a husky rumble, “G--gonna come.”

A primal grunt accompanied the first searing burst of his thick release into her mouth, each pulse after had him gasping a jumbled mixture of her name, _Gods_ , and _fuck_.  
She eagerly swallowed all he offered, she hadn't been kidding about loving the way he tasted. Her strokes and licks slowed and softened as she eased him down, gazing up to find his jaw slack, his glistening chest heaving, his half-lidded eyes looking back at her. The well-pleasured expression suited him perfectly.

With a parting kiss, she sat back with a sultry smile, her thumb gathering the essence that had managed to escape the corner of her mouth before tucking it between her lips to suck it clean with a decadent moan.

“Gods, Sweetheart...,” he trailed off, simply unable to articulate anything further.

She let out a soft laugh, “I think my bear enjoyed that.”

“You have no idea,” he replied with a lopsided grin. His eyes roamed freely over her body, so full of adoration and awe, his desire only partially sated. “Are you still aching for me, love?”

_Gods, that man's voice!_ “Yes.”

He slid down until the pillow was situated under his head, then crooked his finger, “Kneel over my mouth and I'll give you what you need.”

She carefully got into position, her short curls brushing his nose, his beautiful eyes dancing with love and lust gazing up at her.

_I wonder if we’ll break my record for the most orgasms in one night,_ she mused a second before Jorah’s tongue stole her ability to think.


	2. Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the masquerade party, Jorah and Daenerys experiment with something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is way overdue, so I've decided to post two chapters today :D Enjoy!

The bed dipped behind Daenerys moments before a pair of familiar arms enfolded her, drawing her into a warm, safe embrace. Lips skimmed the back of her neck, whiskers scuffing her skin, “Good morning love.”

She hummed contentedly at the sleep-roughened purr of his voice, her eyes still closed, snuggling back against him, his hardness nestling in the cleft of her bottom. “Good morning indeed.”

Groaning lowly in response to the wiggling of her hips, Jorah's hand ran the length of her side to her breast, cupping it, teasing the budding nipple, drawing a soft gasp from her lips. His were busy showering her shoulder and upper back with open-mouthed kisses, each more heated than the last. Soon Daenerys was pulling his hand downward, pushing it between her thighs, desperate for some stimulation.

Her hips bucked when he orbited her slick pearl, her hand reaching back into his curls as her head turned for a passionate kiss. She whimpered, “I need you.”

“Gods, Daenerys, I'll never get enough of you,” he murmured into her mouth, teasing her one last time before gripping her thigh and lifting her leg, opening her, his length sliding along her slick folds. She guided him to her entrance, but hissed suddenly, breaking their kiss with a grimace.

Jorah pulled back instantly, his eyes searching her face, “What is it, love? Did I hurt you?”

She took a breath, “No, my bear, but I think three times is my limit.”

Worry left his brow, his fingers brushing over her the apple of her cheek, “We were quite vigorous last night, weren't we?”

Laughter danced in his eyes, making her smile, memories flashing through her mind like an erotic flipbook. The pleasant ache in her muscles seemingly everywhere was confirmation of that too. “Do you have a favorite?”

He hummed in contemplation, nuzzling her nose, “All of them.”

“Jorah,” she rolled her eyes playfully, “everything we did can't be your favorite.”

“Yes, it can.” He met her gaze, “Everything we do together intimately is unlike anything I've ever felt or experienced. _You_ are my favorite thing.” He kissed her smiling lips, “But I know just the thing to soothe your tender flesh.”

Jorah slipped from the bed and held out his hand, Daenerys giving him an appreciative once-over as she took it. He looked well and thoroughly loved, his hair all mussed, fading nail marks dotting his pectorals and the roundness of his shoulders, a small hickey just below his left collarbone. They were a matching set, except her love mark resided at the top of her thigh, just at her curls. The thought of its presence and how it got there made her warm and tingly all over again.

He led her around the corner and slid the door open to reveal an expansive ensuite. Daenerys' jaw dropped; it was four times the size of their bathroom back home and she had thought that was huge. There were no walls, at least none in the true sense of the word. Much like the door, frosted glass tinted to match the sky and etched with tiny half-circles enclosed them, greatly muting the early morning sunlight. Two blue glass basin sinks were inlaid in grey countertops, the material appearing to be granite. An open shower stall with river stone tiles was nestled along the far side and ringed by low wooden benches made of cedar. Fluffy white towels were piled on top, and next to them on hangers, were plush robes in blush rose and emerald.

But the centerpiece of the space was the spa tub, its color matching the rest of the room's earthy tones, the fixtures crafted in antique copper.

“That thing could fit five people,” she marveled, glancing up at Jorah.

“But it's only going to hold two,” he winked, walking over to the taps to begin filling it, adjusting the water to the perfect temperature.

He lit candles while they waited, the flickering glow dancing off the glass and porcelain, filling the air with a light scent of vanilla. Daenerys closed her eyes, inhaling a deep draw of the smell, the clay tiles beneath her feet pleasantly warm.

“Is the floor heated?”

“I believe so.”

_Wow_.

“Would you like me to have that done to our bathroom floor when we get home?”

Daenerys leaned into Jorah's touch, his hands rubbing languidly over her upper arms, “No, you do a fantastic job of keeping me warm, my bear.”

He lifted her suddenly, growling and rubbing his face into her neck, drawing peals of laughter from her. She half-heartedly fought him, even as she loved the sensations it sent along her nerves. He put her down in the tub with a kiss, then set its jets to their lowest setting, the water moving like a pot on an easy simmer.

“Oh,” Daenerys exclaimed, her eyelids blinking rapidly, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“What's wrong, love?”

“Um...uh...nothing,” she blushed, her speech hurried.

Jorah eyed her curiously, her position in the water and her fingers tensing against the lip of the tub were signs that _something_ was going on. He grinned mischievously and climbed in behind her, noting how close she was to one of the jets. _Ah, now I understand._

“Does that feel good, Sweetheart,” he asked softly, wrapping an arm around her waist and molding himself to the contours of her body.

“I don't know what--” her tongue darted out, hastily wetting her lips, “you're talking about."

“I've read about this.”

She couldn't hide her surprise. “You have?”

His nuzzle of her neck served as a nod. “It can be very pleasurable.” He could sense her hesitancy. “Would I ever allow anything to hurt you or not make you feel good?”

“Never.”

Jorah smiled at how certain her voice sounded. _Breathy_ , but certain. “Let's experience this together, hmm?”

After a second, she nodded, her body going lax against his. “Show me.”

Her words made his cock throb, her trust in him making his heart stutter. “Is this position comfortable?”

On their knees, the hard porcelain unyielding beneath them, he could see how this might distract from the sensations as time went by. And that simply wouldn't do. She shook her head, so he eased them back until she sat in his lap, his hands arranging her legs open wide and over the tops of his thighs, his hard shaft nestled against her folds, but not obstructing the pulse of the water over her pearl.

She gasped loudly and tensed, Jorah immediately drawing her back, thinking she was too close. “Too much? I can turn down—”

“No,” she whispered, “it's just--it...surprised me, that's all.” She swallowed, “Go back to where we were.”

He moved them forward incrementally, waiting for her to let him know wher--"There...right there."

He hummed softly against her ear, brushing his lips over the shell. “Tell me how it feels, love.”

There was a pause, like she was searching for the right words, then she said, “Warm...undulating pressure...like your tongue, but...different. Softer.” Her head fell back against his shoulder, “Touch me, Jorah...talk to me.”

He smirked. _That_ he could do.

“Do you know how much I love pleasuring you here,” he said, his fingers resting gently on her mound, tenderly petting her silver curls, “Inhaling your scent, savoring the slick slide of your nectar on my lips...on my tongue. And your beautiful little pearl, hidden like a treasure only I know how to find...your swollen, rosy lips, begging for my intimate kiss.”

She turned her face toward his, seeking out his mouth. He indulged her, sealing their lips in a soul-searing kiss, tongues winding and dancing, leaving them both gasping for air.  
“I could spend hours with my face between your thighs, worshipping you, watching the flush of your orgasm bloom across your gorgeous skin. The way you moan my name, love, Gods, it...”

“What does it do, my bear,” she urged him, “tell me.”

“It makes me want to bury myself deep inside you, feel how your body can't seem to get enough of me...so I can watch as I make love to you.”

“I love when you do that,” she cooed, raising her arm and hooking it behind his neck, needing an anchor as the tension in her belly coiled tighter.

Tremors ran through the muscles in her thighs, though they were faint. Jorah knew they had barely begun the luxurious climb to Daenerys' freefall. “You know what I want to do with you later, Sweetheart?” She made an inquisitive noise, so he revealed his fantasy to her, “I want to lay you down, spread your legs wide, and watch myself take you while I use a little toy on your pearl.”

A quiver ran through her, her sex pulsing more slick heat onto his length at the image he created in her mind.

“I think you like that idea.” His hands cupped her breasts, kneading them, teasing her hard nipples. “And I want more...bathe my cock in your sweet, sweet honey, love.”

Heat tore through her, her entire being responding to his gravelly tone, to his words, ones he rarely ever used. Her walls clutched at emptiness, “Jorah, I want...I need you inside me.”

“But Daenerys you—”

She cut off his protest, “I'm okay. Just... _please_.”

Tentatively, Jorah lifted her and reached down to grasp his length, guiding it to her entrance. He slowly lowered her, listening carefully for any signs or sounds of discomfort. He heard none, only a low, pleasured moan. One he soon echoed as he reached his limit within her.

“Just...stay right there. Don't move,” she sighed, “You feel so good, my bear.”

_'Good'_ was an understatement. Being one with Daenerys was an incomparable feeling, not just physically, but emotionally too. He had never felt so connected with a woman this way, as if he was in her heart and soul as much as her body. And he knew Daenerys felt the same way, the look in her eyes, and on a few occasions her words, telling him much the same thing.

“Tell me how it feels.”

His earlier inquiry was now being turned on him. He could say she felt _'indescribable'_ , which was true, but he knew that wasn't what she wanted to hear.

“Slick,” he kissed her neck, “hot”, he laved her pulse, “ _tight_ ,” he nipped her ear. “I can feel the flutters of your pleasure rippling on my cock.” To emphasize his point, he tightened his abdomen, making his length contract within her, adding to the sensations coursing through her. He held her closer, his face rubbing in her damp hair, “Gods, love, it feels like _home_.”

His honest declaration had its intended effect, her fingers grabbing the back of his head and pulling him to her lips for an earnest, messy kiss. She looked into his eyes, but couldn't seem to find the words to convey what she felt. But he knew. _You’re my home too._

Her eyelids drooped, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. A mewl caught in her throat, “Baby--,” her husky moan making his sac tighten and his cock twitch, the sound of it so perfect to his ears.

“That's it, Sweetheart,” he growled against her neck, his teeth pressing into the flesh there, her body shivering in surrender like a mate to her alpha male. Her peak rose so slowly, left her teetering on the precipice for what seemed like an eternity, her nails biting into his thighs, every muscle so taut she felt as though she might snap.

And when she did finally fall over the edge, it was all she could do just to breathe, the waves of pleasure so long and lingering, so _intense_ , everything around her melted away, her sex clutching at his length, bathing it in the orgasmic nectar he'd begged her to bless him with.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed hot and shaky against her ear, “so good--love--I...”

He held her tight, his body shuddering, his release blindsiding him and filling her with its heat. She slumped against him, utterly weightless, bliss suffusing every cell of her being. Panted breathes mingled, aftershocks of ecstasy bringing soft moans to both their lips.

Jorah relaxed completely against the heated porcelain, his length slipping from her as she shifted away from the jet, too sensitive to handle any more. He drew her close, raining kisses in her hair and brushing his fingers over her shoulder and back.

It was a long while before she spoke, “Did you know it would be that amazing?”

She felt his mirth rumble through his chest, “The article said it would be pleasurable, but it was far beyond that I think.”

She nodded lazily, stifling a yawn into his neck. He smiled to himself, “Come on, love. How about we dry off and have a short nap? The day's young yet.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, letting him wrap her in a robe and carry her to bed. They snuggled up, the soft breeze from their deck bringing with it the soft scent of honeysuckle. Daenerys sighed contentedly, her leg sliding over his hips so she could get closer.

He smiled into the kiss he bestowed on the top of her head, “I love you.”

But she didn’t hear him, already fast asleep, a state Jorah soon joined her in.

***

Daenerys woke later to an empty bed, but the sound of the shower running let her know Jorah was nearby. She stretched, her body loose and stress-free, her muscles still holding that oh-so-good just stretched feeling. Rolling to her side, she noticed the white wicker basket on the bedside table, overflowing with various items. She recognized the familiar packaging of Martell Industries, the vibrant golden sun pierced through by a silver spear, a grin spreading across her face. Sitting up, she reached over and set the basket on her crossed legs, running her fingers over the sealed black boxes of sex toys and dark blue glass bottles of the finest personal lubricants. She can feel her body responding to the sight of the small silicon vibrator in particular. Sleek and black, its construction implying that the user slips it on a finger.

_Or have your husband do it for you,_ she mused, her sex flushing warm at the thought, her mind’s eye conjuring up an image of Jorah slipping it on, only to tease her folds and pearl until she was begging for him to make her come. Daenerys drew a shaky breath, a little surprised at how aroused she’d become in such a short amount of time.

“That was the one I was thinking of using on you, love.”

His velvety voice made her jump, not realizing just how deep into her fantasy she had been.

She shot him a look over her shoulder, “And what if I want this one?”

Holding up a box containing a rather large vibrating dildo, the label proclaiming its ability to give the user a G-Spot orgasm, she arched her eyebrow at him, baiting him, waiting for his response.

Dropping the towel he’d been using on his hair, he crawled across the bed toward her, his smirk deepening as her lips parted and nipples tightened at the naughty, faintly predatory look in his eyes. He took the box from her and tossed it aside, the warm, husky exhale of his words against her ear making her quiver, “You don’t need that, Sweetheart. Not when you have me.”

He took her hand and guided it under the towel around his waist, letting her feel the hot, hard length of him. She met his eyes an instant before he kissed her, insistent and nearly devouring. The basket tipped over onto the mattress, spilling out its contents as Jorah yanked back the sheet and laid Daenerys back. His head was between her thighs before she even knew what was happening, her legs curling over his shoulders on instinct, the trembling so strong he had to clamp his hands around them to still them. Jorah was moaning decadently, her body seizing every time his tongue stopped its exploration to dance on her clit.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he growled against her tender flesh, her fingers using his damp hair to pull him back.

“Stop talking and make me come,” she ordered breathily, her legs spreading wider, her hips riding his face.

His hoarse chuckle reverberated through her sex, his hand slipping under her bottom to lift her to him in offering, the other trailing up her trembling belly to fondle her breasts. Jorah never left her wanting, her bear always seeing to her pleasure, making sure she was satisfied.

And then some.

He focused on her clit, swirling and flicking, giving her the stimulation he knew would send her flying for him. Jorah took great pride in his oral abilities, knowing exactly what made his beautiful love feel out of this world. He’d never tasted anything as good as Daenerys, the fanciest three-course meal in a five-star restaurant couldn’t hold a candle to the warm nectar she gifted him, which was currently slicking his beard. He loved how aroused she got for him, but even more, he loved seeing her reach her peak.

Somewhere she was heading rather quickly.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath his questing fingers, her short nails scraping rhythmically against his scalp, her thighs tensing against his head as she writhed and arched, his name falling from her lips on a moan. He worked her through until she whimpered and drew back, his tongue now too much. He stroked her body and pressed soft kisses to her inner thighs, her skin flushed and hot beneath his fingers and lips.

It was his turn to be surprised when he found himself on his back, a disheveled Daenerys straddling him. A disheveled and devastatingly sexy Daenerys. Jorah’s cock jutted up from between the halves of the towel, proud and thick, clear beads oozing from the slit and down over the broad, reddened head. He watched as she angled her hips and took him in agonizingly slow, her tight, sopping heat engulfing him, making his jaw clench and his hands grip her upper thighs with a guttural moan.

That was the last thing Daenerys did slowly.

She rode him fervently, her breasts swaying as she braced her palms on his pectorals and took him. _Hard_. Jorah loved Daenerys’ passion, loved that she needed him that desperately that she couldn’t take her time. Consumed by need, her nails bit into his chest, her eyes locked with his as she bounced on his cock, coating the shaft in her shining wetness that also clung like dew to their short curls. Angling her hips so that the little place inside was getting as much attention as her clit was, she increased her pace, feeling how Jorah hardened even further.

But Jorah had a passionate side too. Gripping her hips, he braced his feet on the mattress and tensed his buttocks, pushing up to meet Daenerys’ downward plunges.

“Yes,” she cried, her fingers clenching against his chest, “Give it to me.”

They met thrust for thrust, each hard drive shoving the air from their lungs, their primal noises filling the air. His sac drew taut, but he gritted his teeth, staving off his bliss just a little longer. Daenerys always came first. But she was close, her sounds growing in pitch, her rhythm faltering.

She slammed her hips down one last time, her body shaking with release, her wide eyes holding his captive, her cry of his name loud and broken. Slumping forward and gasping for breath, she realized through her orgasmic haze that Jorah was still rock hard. A lazy smile curled her lips, “I love how you’re still hard for me.”

With a giggled yelp, she found herself on her hands and knees, her eyes dancing with lust and laughter as she gazed back at him. Jorah lunged home, catching her off-guard, which sent her chest to the mattress with a startled ‘ _oof_ ’.

“Sorry, love,” he hesitated, making sure she was alright.

“I’m fine, Jorah,” she assured him, wiggling her hips to give him even more proof.

In this position, her bottom hoisted so perfectly before him like a gorgeous inverted Valentine, Jorah always lost his control. And this time, being already so close to the edge, he only lasted four deep, hard thrusts before he was spilling inside her with a rough grunt, his hips jerking with the intensity of his pleasure.

His head fell back, his hands still tight on her hips, savoring the fading throbs while he tried to slow his heart down. An appreciative sigh had him looked down to find Daenerys staring at him, her eyes roaming over his sweat-slicked torso. “Do you have any idea how much I love looking back when we make love like this and seeing your muscles all tensed and flexed, feeling that strength when you grip me? It’s so animalistic.”

It dawned on him that he was still holding her and he let go, noting the finger-shaped marks dotting her flesh. He slipped from her gently and leaned down, pressing his lips to each one with care, making Daenerys hum in contentment. He laid down and held his arms open to her so they could cuddle, something they both needed and loved after being intimate. They drifted in and out of a short doze, the earlier light breeze a bit stronger now through their open patio. 

Daenerys started giggling and Jorah pulled back to see what was so funny. She shook her head, stifling her mirth into the back of her hand. “The door’s been open this whole time, Jorah. Anyone passing by likely saw and heard us.”

“Let them,” he shrugged, cupping her cheek. “Let them hear how a woman enjoying herself is supposed to sound.”

That surprised her a bit, Jorah not really the type for that. But then again, she had seen flashes of exhibitionism during their time together, so maybe he was coming around to the idea. And that made her smile. “I think I’m going to need a shower before we go to lunch.”

She moved to get out of bed, but Jorah’s arm tightened around her. “I’ll join you.”

Desire sparked in his eyes, clearly, her bear hadn’t had enough of her yet. And if she was being honest, neither had she. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	3. Something New Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After visiting a nearby town, Jorah and Daenerys have dinner with Ellaria. Daenerys shows Jorah the gift Ellaria had given her, which leads to Jorah fulfilling his fantasy he revealed earlier that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events in this chapter are a continuation of the previous one.

They spent the rest of the day in the nearby little town, enjoying lunch at a small café, then meandering through the sprawling outdoor market. Daenerys _ooh’d_ and _ahh’d_ over the wares, buying a few small items here and there for herself and some to take home to Missandei. She saw a few things for Jorah too, but purchased them only when he had wandered off, likely doing the same for her. And as much as she wanted to stay and explore some more, they had to be back by half-past six for dinner with Oberyn and Ellaria. Jorah promised her they’d go back tomorrow seeing as he had added a few extra days onto the original departure date. _For pleasure_ , he had whispered in that voice of his, making her want to pounce on him, irregardless of the fact they were in a crowded, public place. He always had that effect when he spoke in that special tone of his.

Back at their bungalow, Daenerys pulled one of her purchases from her voluminous handbag. Crossing the room, she leaned against the entrance to the ensuite watching Jorah get ready for the evening. He hadn’t put his shirt on yet, her eyes roving over his torso as he ran a comb through his hair.

“Enjoying the view, love,” he teased, drawing her from her perusal.

“Not really,” she shrugged in mock indifference, even as she couldn’t stop her lips from quirking into a smile.

Jorah’s hand flew to his chest, his expression shifting to a playfully offended one, “You wound me, Daenerys.”

Laughter filled the air as she stopped by his side, her arm winding around his middle so she could press against him. “I _always_ enjoy the view,” she reached down and pinched his perfectly muscled buttock, “but especially when you’re partially naked.”

He hummed in agreement and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his arm around her shoulders drawing her closer. “What have you got there?”

Pulling the brown paper wrapped parcel from behind her back, she wasn’t shocked that Jorah had noticed. He was observant like that. “Oh, just a little something I bought for you earlier.”

He took it from her with a smile, “You know, this is one of the myriad reasons why I love you.”

“Because I buy you things?” She shook her head, “Well, well, the truth finally comes out. You really _are_ materialistic.”

He chuckled. “It’s your gentle heart, how you’re always thinking of others.” Their eyes met before he began to undo the twine, the packaging falling open to reveal a short sleeve linen sport shirt in a shade of blue reminiscent of the ocean that sparkled in the setting sun not far from their current location.

“It reminded me of your eyes when you smile,” she rose on tiptoe, “When you tell me you love me.”

Warmth flooded through his chest, his hand rising to cradle her jaw, his thumb brushing over her rounded cheek. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

And without Jorah saying those three words, she saw them shining in those bright blue depths. She closed the distance and gave him a quick peck on the lips, “Put it on.”

He did as she asked, the noise she made when he was done one of obvious approval. The fabric was light and cool, great for the weather. It was also quite comfortable, even as it clung to his shoulders and chest, showing off his physique wonderfully. Daenerys ran her hands over him, her gaze following after, “Gods, you look good in this.”

“I could say the same for you, love,” he noted, taking in for the first time her teal maxi dress, the halter styling showing off her shoulders and back. “And we match…sort of.”

“Same color family anyway,” she winked. “Are we ready?”

“Just have to put on my shoes.”

Once he had, they set off along the path back to the main house and to the veranda where dinner was set to be held. But when they arrived, only one person was waiting for them, the place settings only numbering three.

Ellaria rose as they got closer to the large glass dining table, “Oberyn sends his regrets that he won’t be joining us tonight.”

“Oh, I hope it’s nothing serious,” Daenerys enquired, concerned.

There was a flicker of _something_ across the woman’s delicate features, but she schooled them quickly. “No, nothing at all. Please,” she gestured to the padded high-backed chairs, “My Obi wouldn’t want us to let this meal go to waste.”

Daenerys shot a glance at Jorah, his smirk deftly hidden behind a brush of his fingers. _I’m not the only one who has a nickname for their beloved_ , her eyes seemed to say.

Dinner was a delightful affair, full of laughter, catching up, and reminiscing. The food was absolutely delicious, a fusion of raw organic vegetables and seared ahi tuna. The white wine, of course, was only the best vintage and paired to perfection with the entrée. Daenerys had expected the desert to be just as indulgent, but to her pleasant surprise, it was a bountiful fruit platter. That’s not to say she didn’t enjoy it, because she did, the ripe flesh sweet and juicy. 

Ellaria didn’t seem to want to linger long afterward, excusing herself by wishing to check on her husband. Daenerys and Jorah sent their regards and they parted ways.

“You saw that look on her face,” Daenerys said, once she was sure they were out of earshot. Jorah nodded, “And you noticed how the food was all very healthy.”

“The most decadent things we’ve had to eat were that first night here. I also noticed Oberyn wasn’t drinking at the party, he usual loves wine.”

“I saw that too.” She sighed, “I certainly hope he’s all right.”

“So do I. Not just for Ellaria’s sake, but for his daughters.”

Daenerys looked up at Jorah. “He has daughters?”

“Three. They must be in their late teens by now. All champion athletes if memory serves. Fencing or javelin, I think.”

She shook her head sadly, “Then I _really_ hope he’s all right.”

They walked along, hand in hand in silence for a while until they arrived at the edge of the property. There, facing the horizon, were several deck chairs, bordered on either side by flickering torches. The sun had nearly completely set by now, its orange glow just a thin band above the ocean. Daenerys and Jorah shared a seat, her settled between his legs, resting against his chest in the shelter of his arms. They didn’t talk really; they simply enjoyed each other’s closeness and the sounds of dusk’s creatures beginning to stir.

It was only when Daenerys shivered that Jorah suggested they head back. She hadn’t realized just how long they had been gone, the cricket’s chorus now in full swing, the air’s temperature having dropped considerably from the daytime’s heat.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what did Ellaria give you earlier when we arrived back from town?”

“You’ll see,” Daenerys said cryptically, the glint in her eye told him he wouldn’t be disappointed.

The cadence of Jorah’s strides increased, making Daenerys giggle. “Ooo, someone’s an impatient bear.”

“You have no idea, love,” he told her, turning suddenly and lifting her in his arms so she wouldn’t have to jog in her long dress to keep up with him. He only had to carry her a short distance before they made it inside their bungalow, where he set her down.

“I'll be right back,” she said, dashing off to the ensuite, sliding the door shut.

Jorah smiled and toed off his loafers, busying himself with lighting candles and turning down the bed in preparation before opening the box containing the finger vibrator. Since his fantasy reveal earlier, he had been thinking about using the toy. It had been a wonderful day, and based on the promise of a scintillating surprise, it was shaping up to a glorious evening too.

The padding of feet on plush carpet drew him from his thoughts and he turned, his eyes roving over Daenerys, his jaw dropping. “Sweetheart,” he said softly as she moved to him, his bottom lip drawing between his teeth at the sight of her.

The ensemble was entirely composed of the finest, most intricately sewn fabric he had ever seen, it was clear to him no machine had done this work. The floor-length robe hung loose from one shoulder, revealing the full curve of one lace-clad breast, the delicate pattern doing little to hide the outline of her already taut nipple. Jorah could see the shadow where leg met torso, the skimpy panties cut high up on her hip. The blush hue brought out the pink undertones in her skin. She’d let her hair down too, something that always drove Jorah crazy in the best way. She was a vision and his face must have shown it, given her somewhat coy smile.

“You lit candles,” she noted, her gaze soft. She loved how romantic Jorah was, how he always set just the right mood.

“There’s nothing like your body bathed in candlelight, Daenerys.” His fingers skimmed down her side until his palm came to rest on her waist. “This was her gift?”

“It's from Ellaria’s yet-to-be released line of intimates. Do you like it,” she asked, modeling it for him.

“It's beautiful,” his hand rose to cup her jaw, “but nowhere near as beautiful as you.”

He smiled at the blush creeping across her cheeks. He found it so endearing that she still reacted that way to his compliments.

“If your words didn't give you away, _he_ would,” she smirked, her eyes darting down to the obvious bulge in his tan linen slacks.

“I can't help it, love.” He drew her against his body, sighing at the feel of her warmth bleeding through his lightweight shirt. His fingers carded into her hair, cradling the back of her head, his own dipping down so he could murmur hotly against her ear, “I can't help how my body yearns for you.”

She trembled with an exhale of his name, turning her mouth to his, sealing their lips. The kiss seemed to go on forever, deepening and building gradually in intensity. Divesting herself of her robe so Jorah could lift her effortlessly, he walked them to the bed, refusing to break the kiss, her body clinging to him tightly. Not because she was worried he might drop her, she never feared that. No, she simply wanted to be as close as humanly possible. There was nothing like being in his arms, feeling his strength, his heart beating so close to her own.

He laid her down, his body supported over her with one knee between her legs and his left hand braced near her head. The right one followed the arc of her chest as she pressed her breasts into his touch, needy for the loving way he caressed her curves. This close, the sheerness of the brassiere's cups did little to shield her taut rosy berries from his heated gaze or the teasing brush of his thumb.

“Gods, love,” he uttered lowly just before his head dipped and he nuzzled her cleavage, showering the area with feather-soft kisses. She writhed against him, her fingers curling in his hair, holding him where she wanted him, her center grinding against the prominent ridge of his rapidly growing hardness.

He swallowed her whimpers with a hungry kiss, his scruff scratching her chin and the skin around her lips. He lowered his weight into her, his hips pressing hers into the mattress, rocking against her center sinfully.

“Please,” she mewled, her hands traveling urgently down his strong back to grasp his tensing arse, pulling him to her for more.

Sometimes Jorah’s patience couldn't stand up to the sound of her sweet voice and panted breaths or the feel of just how desperately she wanted him, the proof dampening the front of his trousers. Slipping his hand under her back, he undid the closure of her brassiere with a quick twist of his fingers before divesting her of it just as quickly. Her panties were next, tossed somewhere over the side of the bed. He couldn't help but pause at the sight of her laid bare for him, all soft curves and silky warm skin.

Lifting her leg slightly, she teased his length with her toes, watching the sharp bob of his Adam's apple as his composure slipped and he thrust against her foot. She arched an eyebrow, “Take off your clothes.”

She watched with rapt attention as he unbuttoned his shirt with surprisingly dexterous fingers, she knew she wouldn't have been so coordinated if it was her. She hummed appreciatively as he shrugged out of it, the play of his muscles had her sex clenching. He reached for his belt, undoing it slowly, the susurrus of supple, expensive leather through the loops had her panting. Gods, there was something so primal about watching Jorah undress, something that made her want to touch herself. So she did, her legs spreading, her fingers drawing through her slick to tease her pearl, the bolt of pleasure making her gasp. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, Jorah's fingers fumbling, then stilling on his zipper, half of it unzipped.

He cursed under his breath; his eyes riveted on her center. “You know what you do to me when touch yourself?”

She nodded, a startled squeak leaving her as he suddenly drew her to a seated position, pressing her wet fingers to him. She could feel his thickness throbbing even through his boxer briefs, their eyes meeting, his dark and lustful. She started stroking him, softly at first, then with more pressure as she began to palm his entire length.

“Daenerys,” he huffed, his hips jerking each time her fingers brushed over the crown of his cock. His hand closed around her wrist, stopping her. “If you keep that up, this’ll all be over before we even start.”

She smiled seductively, “And what's wrong with that?”

He rested his palm high up on her inner thigh, his index finger ghosting over her slick, swollen folds. “What sort of man would I be if my lady didn't come first?”

Her breath left her in a rush, how he could make her shiver with such a simple phrase was still amazing to her.

He slipped from the bed to finish undressing, then rejoined her, gathering two thin pillows and arranging them under her hips, just like the picture he remembered from their book. It had her at the perfect angle, like a succulent platter waiting to be devoured. Laying out on his stomach between her legs, he stared unabashedly at her center for a long moment. Jorah glanced up to find her watching, her lip tucked between her teeth. His thumbs parted her folds, the pad of one spreading her slick over her exposed pearl.

“Jorah,” she gasped, her body jolting, “please.”

“Can you see how beautiful you are here, love?” And he could see it written all over her face when she did notice, her lips parting, her eyes widening faintly.

He closed the distance with his gaze locked on hers, his mouth surrounding her. He groaned at her delicious flavor, his tongue dipping inside for more.

Daenerys nearly couldn't stand it, the sight of Jorah's lips suckling her pearl, only to let it slip free before his tongue laved it in long, slow swipes that left her legs trembling. The stark contrast of his ginger blond whiskers against her silver curls, the desirous fire raging in those darkened azure pools of his, it was all almost too much. She knew he loved it when she watched him, knowing it aroused her even more and made the sensations stronger. Seeing and feeling his mouth do those wicked things, watching the lust and pride shine in his eyes when she moaned his name and anchored her fingers tightly in his curls as her sex bathed his bearded chin with her honey only made her pleasure that much greater.

Just as it did now.

Her toes curled against him back, her body squirming as she neared the edge.  
“Jorah,” she said suddenly, “I need you now.”

Surprised that she didn't want him to finish, he rose to his knees and sat back on his heels, his thighs spreading her wider. Grasping his length and lining himself up with her entrance, he slid in effortlessly, her breathless _’yes’_ as he reached his limit within her had him pausing... _savoring_ …the feeling of being one with her. He had a perfect view of her rosy lips stretched around his girth, how he shone in the flickering light when he retreated, just the head left inside her.

Jorah set a decadent, torturous pace, one that had Daenerys gripping the sheets and pleading with him to go faster. He stroked her body, cupping and fondling her breasts, teasing her nipples. He touched every inch of her he could reach, the silk of her skin so warm beneath the broad expanse of his massive hands.

Stretching out each roll of his hips, he made sure he was hitting that spot inside her each time, the one that drove her mad with ecstasy and made her orgasms even more intense. Using the pad of his thumb, he gathered some of her arousal and began to trace the entire length of the hood sheltering her clit in long, slow ovals, knowing the organ extended far deeper than he could see.

“Jorah, _Gods_ , that--,” her head fell back with a stilted groan, her back arching, which pushed her down more against his orbiting digit.

He loved that he could still shock her, do something new that no other man had ever done or thought to do before. But making Daenerys feel out of this world was Jorah's top priority, at least when it came to their intimate moments.

“Please… _please_ …I want…faster.” She could barely get the words out, her panted breaths, combined with how she shifted impatiently beneath him, her walls starting to flutter around him, revealed just how close she was.

“I know that's what you want, love,” he purred, his voice deliciously rough and low, “but I'm going to give you what you _need_ first.”

Exerting a bit more pressure with his thumb, he didn’t deviate from his measured rhythm. Not even when Daenerys began to shudder, her eyelids struggling to stay open. More liquid heat coated his cock, trickling down onto his sac, making him growl. It took every ounce of his resolve not to abandon his current plan, instead, he clenched his jaw and listened as her breathing deepened.

“Jorah,” she keened, her body squirming, her hands scrabbling for purchase on something, _anything_ to anchor her against the rising tidal wave of sensation. She settled for the headboard, using it to press down into his languid thrusts in a futile attempt to get him moving faster. But he didn't give in, letting her feel every thick inch of his length stroking her silky walls, stoking the fire of her pleasure.

Daenerys would have marveled at his patience had her orgasm not overwhelmed her, a stilted moan filling the air each time his thumb circled her throbbing clit, drawing more slickness from her with each pulse of her sex. It seemed to go on forever, leaving her feeling wrung out, but oddly still craving more. When it was finally too much, she pushed his hand away with a whimpered ‘ _I can’t’_ , her chest heaving.

He slowed his thrusts until he was barely moving, savoring the fading spasms. Aside from giving Daenerys pleasure, _seeing_ her experience it made Jorah's chest swell with pride. There was nothing more beautiful, no sound or sight in the world that could rival her falling apart for him. And there was nothing he enjoyed more than being the one to get her there.

After giving her some time to recover while he caressed her damp skin, his cock still buried deep inside her, he started again, sliding out slowly, setting the same tempo as before, only this time, the copious slick of her peak made his movements so smooth, he knew some friction would make things even better. Pressing his fingers against her belly, just above her curls, he found her sweet spot with practiced ease, her wide eyes and sharp gasp confirming what he already knew.

After a time, he reached behind him and slipped the silicone toy onto his left thumb, flipping the switch to the lowest setting. A nearly inaudible hum filled the air, her eyes meeting his as he brought his hand to her center. He traced the sides of her sex, her lips, the vibrations transferring through her flesh and into his, his cock twitching. _That feels really good,_ he concluded, _but this isn't for me._

He moved his thumb down, resting it softly against the top of her pearl.

“Oh Gods,” her jaw dropping open, her eyelids drooping.

“Is it good there,” he murmured huskily, “or here?”

He shifted the toy downward, now pressing against the tip.

“There,” she cried, her hands scrabbling amongst the sheets, her sex pulsing around his length. “Please...make me come. My bear…”

Daenerys knew full well what calling Jorah _that_ would do and he was powerless not to give her what she wanted.

His next thrust was more of a hard snap, their bodies meeting with a resounding slap. He did it again, and again, each successive one faster than the last until he was pounding into her, the headboard banging against the wall. He looked down to watch his cock disappearing inside her, Daenerys transfixed by the sight as well. It was beautiful and profane, the union of love and lust.

“Fuck me,” she chanted over and over, needing to be taken, _possessed_ , by the man who knew her as no man ever had.

He growled and leaned forward to grip the headboard, curling over her as his hips pistoned between her now shaking legs. Through it all, he kept the toy right where she needed it. She was close, Jorah could feel it, her walls clutching at his cock. But he could see it too, her intimate flesh deepening in color with the rush of blood, her brows drawing together, how her eyes struggled to stay open.

Gods, he needed her to get there soon, his orgasm building swiftly.

He didn't have to wait long.

Her nails bit into his sweat-slick sides, her head falling back, her mouth open in a mock scream as she fell apart beneath him.

“Oh fuck, that's it,” he moaned, his rhythm completely lost as he chased his release.

He thrust once more, joining her in bliss, her name trapped in a groan.

They gasped for breath, her body still quaking with the last vestiges of her peak. He turned off the toy and tossed it aside, his hand stroking her damp skin lovingly as he savored the waning ripples of their euphoria.

“Jorah, that was...,” she panted as he collapsed beside her, his skin covered in a fine sheen that matted his golden chest hair.

“You said it, love,” he chuckled, their fingers intertwining.

She turned her head to look at him, her cheeks beautifully flushed, her dimples on full display. He could only mirror her expression, his body too blissed out to do much else. They laid there in the gentle quiet for some time, regaining their faculties and enjoying the closeness.

Daenerys’ yawn signaled to Jorah that sleep was nearly upon her, so he drew her beneath the covers with him. She snuggled deeper into his warm embrace, sighing happily, her face turning into his chest briefly, his scent equal parts soothing and arousing. But her body was sated...for now. Jorah had seen to that. Just as he always did.


End file.
